


The Man, The Moth, The Legend

by Salty_Cro



Category: The Adventure Zone: Amnesty - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, autistic indrid cold, but also not really?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-09 15:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19890208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salty_Cro/pseuds/Salty_Cro
Summary: The world is obsessed with Indrid Cold, a breakout star after his latest role as the infamous Mothman in an indie horror movie. He is mysterious, secretive, and private, just like his character in the movie. Hordes of fans try to follow his every move, and after a particularly close call, his agent Ned Chicane insists he hire a bodyguard. Indrid agrees, and after a few less than ideal candidates he meets Duck Newton. Duck is… perfect, for lack of a better word. He’s big, strong, and has experience in several fighting styles including bladed combat. Not to mention how handsome he is, but that’s none of Indrid’s business. They spend the next few months navigating press tours, red carpets, and overzealous fans, and maybe falling in love?[This is an expansion of an ask game on tumblr, and it got way out of hand]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all welcome to tmtmtl! im excited to bring this out, i've got a lot planned and i think it's gonna be real good! now, there is some violence in this chapter, so watch out, but it's not backed by malice so it's not gruesome in any way. enjoy!

“That was Indrid Cold, star of the upcoming indie horror movie ‘Seen and Unseen.’”

Indrid maneuvered easily through the back hallway of the studio. The tinny speakers played the audio from the talk show being taped on the other side of the wall. He had a general idea of where he was going, and the shadowy militia of production assistants would tell him if he was wrong. He took a turn at the storage closet with “LIGHT” scrawled on it and found his manager.

“We need to be on the plane to NYC at three,” Ned said, looking up from his phone. “To be honest, I don’t know why they need you there a day and a half early, but that’s showbiz.”

“How far is the Uber?” Indrid asked.

“Outside,” Ned said.

“Anyone we need to talk to?” Indrid asked.

“Nope, everything’s ready, we just need to get going,” Ned said.

“Alright.” 

Indrid followed Ned out of the building. As his eyes adjusted to the dim streetlights, he saw the small but loud crowd of people gathered by the door.

“You got fans already,” Ned muttered.

Indrid tuned in to what the group was saying. He heard his own name several times over, and some dissonant screaming. 

“Just keep walking.”

Indrid wasn’t going to argue. He didn’t need to engage with the sensory nightmare that was the mass of fans. The unnaturally cool August air was cutting into his skin, he should’ve brought a jacket, he knew he needed one when—

The air was knocked out of Indrid’s lungs. 

Distantly, he heard some shouting and felt pain blooming across his left side. It was too loud for Indrid to tell what was going on. He felt a solid, cold presence behind him (everything was so cold and he hated it) that he realized was the wall of the building. He saw Ned coming between him and the crowd, and the streetlight was so bright. Indrid noticed the distinct lack of red tint to his vision. His glasses must have fallen off.

“My glasses,” Indrid managed to say.

“Yeah, I got them, c’mon, let’s go,” Ned said. 

He hurried Indrid away from the crowd, into the waiting Uber. The driver took off immediately, and Indrid clicked his seatbelt into place. It felt as if he were controlling his body from afar.

“Are you okay?” Ned asked.

“I think so,” Indrid said, “I don’t… know what happened?”

“Some wild kid tried to hug you but you were still moving, so they just flung their arms out and smacked you,” Ned said.

“Ah.”

Indrid reached up and felt his jaw. It hurt, definitely. Hopefully it wouldn’t bruise, because he had a photoshoot in less than two days. He felt another welling of pain on his arm, but that one was less noticeable.

Ned sighed. “I’ll see about an ice pack or something when we get back to the hotel, alright? Just— here’s your glasses, and your phone.”

He handed Indrid his stuff. Indrid slipped his glasses back on, and he felt a little bit better now that the headlights of the cars outside weren’t spearing him in the retina. He opened his phone too. No new messages, just notifications for his Ned-enforced social medias. He should really turn those off.

“How bad will the headlines be?” Indrid asked.

“You’re well-liked, so probably in your favor, but still not great,” Ned said.

Indrid snickered. “Underground celebrity Indrid Cold absolutely decimated by well-meaning fan.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Ned laughed.

“Breakout star Indrid Cold is nothing like his character, gets taken out by a teenager,” Indrid tried again.

“Not clickbait enough,” Ned mused. Indrid was glad Ned was playing along instead of fussing over him.

“Mothman impersonator Indrid Cold gets wrecked by loyal fan,” Indrid said finally.

“There it is!” Ned laughed, “You gotta get the cryptid in the title, and it’s just vague enough that someone clicks on it.”

“Well, all press is good press, I suppose,” Indrid said, “Although at this point I’d gladly take no press.”

“It’ll be better in New York, there’s higher stakes for entertainers getting damaged on-property,” Ned said.

“If I don’t get murdered in the airport,” Indrid said.

The car stopped outside the hotel before Ned could respond. Indrid waited for Ned to get out before crawling out that door instead of opening his own. They hurried inside and took the elevator up to their room.

As Indrid went into the bathroom to assess the damage, he heard the heavy bolt on the door sliding into place. Ned was saying something under his breath, but Indrid was focused on his face in the mirror. All his camera makeup was still in place, except for the place on his jaw where the concealer had been smeared away. Indrid picked up a package of makeup wipes and started clearing away the rest.

“Do you want our lawyers to do anything about this?” Ned asked from the room.

“I don’t think so,” Indrid replied.

“I’m already getting calls about this,” Ned said, “Jeez, the media moves fast.”

“Snapchat?” Indrid guessed.

“It’s always Snapchat,” Ned grumbled.

“Picture or video?”

“Video.”

“I want to see it,” Indrid said. He tossed the stained makeup wipe in the trash can and went into the room.

“Here.” Ned handed over his phone.

Indrid pressed play. The camerawork was shaky and dark, but you could clearly see someone approaching Indrid, and then see Indrid collapse against the wall. The video cut off abruptly. Indrid gave the phone back to Ned.

“I… to be honest, I’m almost embarrassed. I know it’s not my fault but I just sort of died there, didn’t I?” Indrid said.

“Yeah, well,” Ned shrugged, “Why don’t you make a tweet about how you’re okay, don’t mention the person who hit you at all, and I’ll go get some ice.”

“Alright,” Indrid said.

He was not looking forward to his Twitter activity. As he opened the app on his phone, the whole thing nearly crashed. Indrid glanced at a few of his mentions, and they seemed to express concern at what happened. He managed to navigate to the settings page and turn push notifications off. Then he started a new tweet.

_Thank you all for your concern, but I promise I’m fine. I know it looks like I have the constitution of a cardboard cutout, but I wasn’t actually hurt. I’ll still be doing the rest of the press circuit as planned._

Indrid saved that as a draft for Ned to go over and set his phone face-down on the desk. The door opened and Ned came in, carrying the ice bucket.

“Alright, let’s get you patched up,” Ned said. He set the bucket down on the desk and went over to the kitchenette for a resealable bag.

“This is absurd,” Indrid said. He took the bag of ice wrapped in a hand towel from Ned.

“Well, I’m not a doctor, so it’s the best we’ve got. We have a flight to catch in a few hours and we need to leave as soon as possible,” Ned said.

“I know,” Indrid sighed. He gestured to his phone. “The tweet is drafted, I wanted you to look at it because I’m still not sure how I should feel about this whole thing.”

Ned picked up the phone. Indrid put the makeshift ice pack onto his jaw. It was cold, as it should be, but knowing it was coming didn’t make it feel better.

“You know, you should really have some kind of protection.”

Indrid moved the ice pack to uncover his mouth. “What, like a weapon?”

“Well, maybe,” Ned huffed. “I meant a bodyguard. Someone to get between you and the next assailant.”

“Really,” Indrid said. He took the ice off his jaw. He was already freezing as it was.

“Yeah, really. I’ll get the agency to cover their salary,” Ned said.

“I just don’t like the concept. Someone follows me around everywhere and protects me from danger? It seems… the power imbalance isn’t great,” Indrid said.

“Well if you pay them, and no one’s saying you can’t also be friends. Besides, it’s just for the press tour,” Ned said.

“I suppose you’re right.”

Indrid considered the possibilities. Either they would find someone who turned out to be evil, or they would become best friends. Or, least interesting but most likely, they would be close acquaintances at best who parted ways after Indrid’s days of fame faded.

“How do you go about hiring a bodyguard, anyway?” Indrid asked.

“Leave that to me, my friend,” Ned said, in such a tone that Indrid knew he should not leave it to Ned.

~☀~

Indrid was absolutely right. They were in a security agency in New York City, and Ned had brought in three of possibly the worst candidates for the job. Not that they seemed unskilled, but if he was supposed to be around them for extended periods of time, well, he couldn’t.

The first candidate was a man that Ned described as “experienced,” Leo Tarkesian. This seemed to translate to grouchiness and a proficiency in weapons. He answered all the questions with a slow New York twinge, and didn’t seem particularly interested in Indrid at all. Indrid didn’t care for the man either. He signaled to Ned that he was not going with this guy, and Ned smoothly dismissed him.

Next up was a woman who went by Minerva. She was definitely talented at the protection aspect, but she was very loud. Indrid didn’t want to judge a book by its cover, but he couldn’t deal with someone that overbearing. Ned seemed to understand when Indrid signaled that he wasn’t interested.

The third and final candidate Ned had chosen was Sarah Drake, who was newer to the agency but had good credentials. She seemed nice enough, until Ned started asking about past media industry work. Apparently she had no prior experience with press circuits. To be fair, neither did Indrid really, but he didn’t need anyone to be confused about schedules with him. Ned said they would consider her and concluded the interview.

“You have to pick someone,” Ned insisted as soon as the door shut.

“I don’t, really,” Indrid said disinterestedly. 

The more he looked into it, the less he wanted a bodyguard. Ned was talking about an around-the-clock guard, and to be honest Indrid valued his privacy far more than his physical safety. He couldn’t handle being watched full time. Besides, he hadn’t properly slept in about 28 hours, so he was extremely ready to leave.

“Look, I know this isn’t exactly your idea, but you’ve already been attacked and it’s cheaper in the long run to find a bodyguard than to miss any appearances, or god forbid hospital bills,” Ned said.

“I know, but can’t this wait? Clearly none of these people are prepared to work with me,” Indrid said.

“Maybe if you weren’t so rude they would be,” Ned pointed out.

“If they can’t handle me at ‘jet-lagged stone cold bitch’ then they won’t make it to my ‘manageable individual’ stage,” Indrid said.

“I don’t think I’ve made it there and I’m literally your manager,” Ned laughed.

Indrid tilted his head pointedly. “I just don’t see why I need a bodyguard. I’ve already been attacked.”

“Exactly. Do you know how much trouble I’m in for that? If I don’t do something to counter that I could be fired and then we’d both be on our own,” Ned said.

“Why didn’t you just say that then,” Indrid said quietly, no longer so convinced of his own argument.

“I thought you’d figured it out by now, with your crazy deduction skills,” Ned said, “Can we try again tomorrow, I’ll find some new people to interview, and—”

There was a knock on the door. Indrid looked over at it. 

“Come in,” Indrid said warily.

The door opened, revealing a sheepish-looking man carrying a folder. He was tall and broad, with long dark hair tied back in a low ponytail and a medium-length beard. He was wearing a sensible button-up shirt and jeans. His eyes were a mismatched brown and green, and as Indrid looked into them he realized just how much he was staring.

“Hello, uh, I know I’m not one of the candidates you pre-selected, but my supervisor said to come talk to you? I can give you a minute if you need, but I just wanted to catch you before you left,” the man said. He stepped forward and handed over the file. “I’m Duck Newton, by the way, uh, here’s my background info and references.”

Indrid realized he should probably reply. “We…”

“Thank you, Mr. Newton, give us just a moment and we’ll call you in when we’re ready,” Ned cut in.

“Of course,” Duck said. He stepped out of the room and shut the door.

Immediately Indrid turned to Ned. “Why wasn’t he on the list?”

“Because we don’t need any more scandal,” Ned said.

“Scandal? What— do you think I can’t be professional?” Indrid asked.

“Well you were just starin’ at him! I thought you were Mister Mysterious, ‘Stone Cold Bitch’ or whatever you said,” Ned replied.

“I was just surprised that he came in,” Indrid said.

“No you weren’t,” Ned said.

“I— listen. It was a temporary lapse. Now I know what to expect, I’ll be entirely professional, or even mean. Do you want me to be mean to this innocent prospective colleague, Ned? Is that what you expect from me?” Indrid demanded.

“See, you were never this worked up about any of the other ones,” Ned pointed out.

Indrid deflated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be entirely professional. It’s not like we’re actually going to hire a bodyguard for me today anyway.”

“Alright, go call him in then,” Ned said, gesturing towards the door.

Indrid stood up and went over to open the door. Duck was standing in the hallway talking to one of the original candidates, Sarah, and he looked over as Indrid peered out.

“We’re ready,” Indrid said.

“Alright,” Duck said. He seemed a lot more confident now.

Indrid went back into the room and heard Duck follow him and shut the door. They sat down on their respective sides of the table.

Ned started the interview with what Indrid knew as his business voice. “Hello, Mr. Newton, we’ve gone over your references here, you seem to have some credible experience. Tell me, what has been your most notable experience thus far?”

Duck answered the question, but Indrid wasn’t really listening. He was watching the man’s mannerisms: the casual but alert posture, the way his hands rested on the table, how he seemed very focused but didn’t make much direct eye contact. He was clearly a pro at the interview process, his answers were concise and practiced. At one point, Indrid noticed Duck glance at him before cracking a joke. Indrid smiled a little bit, because it was funny, but also because that meant Duck was good at sizing people up.

In short, he was perfect.

“Well, that’s all the questions we have, I think,” Ned said, “Do you have any questions for us?”

“Yes, I’m wondering what level of protection you’re looking for? As my references show I’ve done transport and around-the-clock, but we can also work on a more fine-tuned plan if you need,” Duck said.

“Well—”

Indrid cut Ned off. “I think an around-the-clock schedule will work, for specific dates. There’s going to be a lot of travel involved, it is a press circuit after all, so I’ll need more security when I’m out and about, but on the off days we won’t make you follow me around. Ned, I believe you have the schedule?”

“I can only release the schedule to the person we actually hire,” Ned said, looking pointedly at Indrid. 

“Right, of course,” Indrid said, “Can we not hire him?”

“Excuse my client, Mr. Newton, he’s being petulant on purpose. What he’s _trying_ to say is that we’d like to hire you for this press tour,” Ned said.

“Alright, that’s great,” Duck nodded, “I’ll have my supervisor email you the contract, and you can call if you have any questions or want to adjust it.”

“Sounds good,” Ned said, “Thank you for giving us a shot, I know Mr. Cold here can be a real piece of work.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve worked with all kinds of people, I’m sure this will be a breeze,” Duck said.

“I hope you’re right,” Ned laughed.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you when we meet before the next appearance, right?” Duck said.

“Yep! I’ll get that contract going ASAP so we can finalize it,” Ned said.

“Great, thank you,” Duck said. He stood up to leave, and Ned stood up with him. Indrid figured he should get up too.

“I look forward to working with you,” Indrid said finally.

“Same here,” Duck smiled. Indrid was glad he was wearing sunglasses, because he was very sure he was staring again. “See you soon.”

Duck left the room, leaving Ned and Indrid in the doorway.

“This is going to go badly, isn’t it? He’s too perfect,” Indrid asked.

“If you don’t stop calling him perfect, things will definitely go wrong,” Ned replied dryly.

“I mean from a technical standpoint. He's got all the right experience, he'll blend in with a crowd well enough, he's funny, and he could definitely pick me up and carry me in a crisis,” Indrid said.

“Weren’t you the one going on about how the power imbalance is weird?” Ned said.

“I never said I would act on anything. In fact, I would rather not!" Indrid replied. He slumped against the wall. “I’m just worried that he’s very nice to look at and that I will make it weird.”

“Just don’t think about it then,” Ned said.

“Like I’d take any advice from you,” Indrid scoffed.

“I’m your manager!”

“You and your husband got married in a haunted house,” Indrid said.

“And it was excellent,” Ned said.

“You asked him out after you almost ran him over in your car,” Indrid said.

“You’re exaggerating,” Ned waved him off.

Indrid rolled his eyes and sighed. This would be a long three months.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck Newton has about three skills: reading body language, making and keeping friends, and being gay. Luckily, this new job calls for all of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all here's the second chapter!! i promise it'll be less exposition-y after this but i just put A Lot of thought into everyone's place in this universe and wanted to establish some dynamics before we got into the meat of it. enjoy!!

Duck Newton woke up that morning to a phone call.

Supposedly, it was a day off for him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on call. So he rolled over, picked up his phone and answered.

“Go for Duck.”

It was his supervisor. “Hey, Duck, we’re doing interviews with a potential client today and when I was talking to his manager on the phone, it seemed like you would be a good fit. Do you think you could be here by ten?”

Duck glanced over at the clock. 8:34. “Yeah, I guess I can. I wasn’t one of the candidates they pre-selected though, unless I’m a late addition?”

“You’re not, but the guy’s manager admitted that he’d be a tough person to be around, and somehow you never have trouble with those ones,” the supervisor said.

“So I’m coming in just to be a back-up as a last resort when they inevitably don’t hire us?” Duck asked.

“You’re getting paid overtime just for showing up,” the supervisor said.

“Alright,” Duck sighed, “I’ll be there in an hour.”

Sure enough, just under an hour later, Duck walked into the building. He noticed the unfamiliar car outside, likely the one the potential clients came in.

“Oh, hey, you’re here. They’re up in the second conference room, someone can fill you in up there,” the supervisor said.

“Great,” Duck said. It wasn’t great, but he liked getting paid overtime.

Duck climbed the stairs to the second floor and spotted Sarah and Minerva waiting in the hallway. They waved him over.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming,” Sarah said.

“Yeah, apparently I’m supposed to be good with what our supervisor calls—” Duck lowered his voice, “what our supervisor calls problem clients.”

“I mean, you are,” Sarah said.

“Who is this guy anyway?” Duck asked.

“Indrid Cold, he plays the Mothman in some indie horror movie that’s coming out soon,” Sarah said.

“Oh, so this is for the whole press circuit?” Duck replied.

“Yeah, I think so, which is why I’m hoping he’s not as bad as he seems,” Sarah said.

“Leo is in there currently,” Minerva said, “But to be honest I do not think that he is the right fit for this job.”

“Yeah, Leo’s a little stuck in his ways,” Sarah nodded, “That’s fine for basic jobs but apparently this guy is resistant to having a bodyguard in general.”

“Ugh, really? Why’s he even here, then?” Duck asked.

“Well, apparently he took a nasty hit just last night, so his manager is enforcing it,” Sarah said.

“From what I saw, it was quite bad,” Minerva said.

“Have you seen the video? It’s all over the internet,” Sarah asked.

“I woke up an hour ago and half of that was spent on the subway,” Duck said.

“Here.” Sarah pulled out her phone and tapped around until she found what she was looking for. She held the phone up for Duck to see.

The shaky Snapchat video played. It showed some grainy mass of fans, and one of them intercepted the clearly overwhelmed celebrity and flung their arms out at them, smacking them in the face. They collapsed against the wall, and it looked like security was coming in the background but the video cut off.

“Damn,” Duck grimaced.

“Yeah. So I’m not saying it’ll be fun, but it is definitely necessary,” Sarah said.

“People are fuckin’ wild,” Duck shook his head.

“Not as wild as this guy,” Leo said as he joined the circle. “Minerva, you’re next. Watch out, the guy is judgy as hell.”

“I will see you all later,” Minerva said. She disappeared through the door Leo came out of.

“What’s he like?” Duck asked.

“Quiet in a rude way, stares a lot, doesn’t want to be here. Wears sunglasses indoors. You know the type,” Leo said.

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Duck reasoned.

“Wait ‘til you talk to him,” Leo said.

“I think I’m on Duck’s side here, he can’t be that awful,” Sarah said, “He’s probably jet-lagged, and he got punched in the face last night. He’s probably just having a bad day.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I know he’s not gonna hire me, so I’m gonna go get something to eat,” Leo said.

“The usual spot?” Duck asked.

“Yeah, you all should come by and tell me how it went, tell Minnie too,” Leo said.

“Alright, see ya later,” Duck said.

“Bye,” Sarah waved.

“Bye,” Leo said. He started walking down the hall towards the elevator.

“What if the guy really is that bad, Sarah?” Duck said.

“I don’t think he will be, or if he is, it’s not our problem,” Sarah replied.

“I don’t think he’s that bad, I know Leo just gets all grouchy, but I’m gonna get in trouble if they don’t hire us,” Duck sighed.

“I’m sure it’s gonna be fine,” Sarah said.

Just as she said that, Minerva emerged from the conference room. Duck wouldn’t think to associate the word ‘downtrodden’ with Minerva basically ever, but that was really the only descriptor he had.

“That bad?” Sarah said.

“I do not think it was intentional, but he did flinch several times throughout the interview,” Minerva grimaced.

“I’m sure he’s just having a bad day, like I was telling Duck,” Sarah said. She seemed to be telling herself that more than anyone else.

“I understand that, but I’m also very sure that I will not be chosen for this one,” Minerva said.

“Alright, well, Leo’s at the cafe, so you can join him there while Sarah and I get rejected,” Duck said.

“I am next, aren’t I? Well, see you all in a bit,” Sarah said.

“Good luck,” Duck said.

Sarah went into the conference room. Duck turned to Minerva.

“I can’t do this, I know I’m getting paid overtime to be here but if y’all aren’t up to his standards than I certainly won’t be,” Duck said.

“To be quite honest, Duck, I think you might be closer to his standards than you think. If he did not like Leo or myself, then it is possible he may work better with a more subdued personality,” Minerva said.

“You calling me boring?” Duck laughed.

“No, I mean— you will understand when you go in. He does not seem like a terrible person, just difficult to work with,” Minerva said.

“I hope you’re right.” Duck sat down on the bench in the hallway. “Go find Leo, me n’ Sarah will be there soon.”

“Bye Duck,” Minerva said.

“See ya.”

Now Duck was alone, he was a little bit terrified. He waited anxiously for the sound of the door opening with his eyes fixed on the tile. It felt like hours. Honestly though, no amount of time would make him feel prepared. Duck knew that, realistically, it wouldn’t make a big deal either way, but the anticipation was killing him.

Finally, Sarah came out of the room. Her expression was… grim.

“Really? I have to go in there and get shut down?” Duck asked.

“He’s not really… mean, per se, but he’s real hard to get a read on, and very blunt,” Sarah said.

“I can’t do this. They didn’t even ask for me! If I just barge in there, I’m gonna get absolutely dunked on and then the supervisor’s gonna be pissed that I scared off a potential client,” Duck said.

“No, I really think you’d be alright. Honestly, he kinda reminds me of you, if you were a stuck-up movie star and not a reasonable person,” Sarah said.

“Gee, thanks,” Duck huffed.

“Just go in, it’s fine. I’ll wait for you and we can walk to the cafe together,” Sarah said.

“Ugh, alright.” 

Duck took a deep breath and went over to knock on the closed door. There was a beat of silence, and then a pleasant voice said, “Come in.”

Duck opened the door. Inside, he saw who he presumed to be the manager, as he had a binder and a few files in front of him. Then he saw Indrid Cold, the man that his coworkers were so affected by. He was tall, even while slouching in a chair with his arms crossed, and he had long black hair with streaks of silver. He was wearing a baggy hoodie and what Duck recognized as light-filtering red glasses, not just ‘wearing sunglasses indoors’ like Leo said. A slight bruise tinted the left side of his jaw. He seemed to be sizing Duck up, and though his mouth seemed to have a permanent smile to it, he didn’t look happy.

“Hello, uh, I know I’m not one of the candidates you pre-selected, but my supervisor said to come talk to you?” No one replied, so Duck held out his file and continued. “I can give you a minute if you need, but I just wanted to catch you before you left. I’m Duck Newton, by the way, uh, here’s my background info and references.”

Indrid spoke first. “We…”

The manager interrupted, “Thank you, Mr. Newton, give us just a moment and we’ll call you in when we’re ready.”

“Of course.” Duck was out of there as fast as was socially acceptable.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked.

“They’re still talking, so I’m waiting. I’m honestly not sure what you guys mean, he seems fine,” Duck said.

“Just give him a minute to figure you out,” Sarah said.

“I really don’t think—”

The door opened again.

“We’re ready,” Indrid said.

From that point, the whole process was a blur. Duck shifted into his customer service mode and answered the questions with the stock answers he practiced. He kept glancing over at Indrid, just to measure his interest in the interview. The manager, Ned, was asking all the questions, at least until the end. At that point, Duck realized that somehow he had managed to get Indrid’s attention, and not piss him off like everyone else had.

“I look forward to working with you,” Indrid said.

“Same here,” Duck replied with a smile. He shook Ned’s hand. “See you soon.”

Once the door shut behind him, Duck practically disintegrated. Sarah was sitting on the bench, and she seemed confused.

“How’d it go?” she asked warily.

“I got the gig?” Duck tried.

“I told you you could do it,” Sarah said.

“He’s really not that bad, I don’t think,” Duck said.

“And that’s why you always get that kind of client,” Sarah said pointedly.

“Yeah, and they’re never actually that bad,” Duck said, “Let’s get going.”

The walk to the cafe was short, as it was right across the street from their office building. The lunch rush was beginning to come in, but they found Leo and Minerva at their usual table.

“How’d it go?” Leo asked.

“I got the job somehow,” Duck said.

“I knew you could do it!” Minerva said.

“That’s what I said,” Sarah nodded.

Duck grinned and picked up a menu, holding it like an award. “I’d like to thank the Academy—”

Sarah and Minerva bursted out laughing. Even Leo chuckled. Duck smiled. All of the imposing anxiety from earlier was gone. This was just a regular job, and his friends were here, so he would be fine.

~☀~

Later that day, while Duck was waiting to sign off on the final contract, he video-called Juno, his best friend and possibly the only reasonable person to ever exist.

“Hey Duck,” Juno said as she answered the call. She looked like she was out in her backyard, which was full of trees and grass and no neighbors within fifty acres. Duck envied her so much.

“Hey Juno, guess who got another gig today,” Duck said.

“Oh really? Can you say who it’s with?” Juno replied.

“Contract hasn’t been finalized, so no, but it’s a celebrity,” Duck said, “I can’t say anything more about them right now. But what I can say is how the interview went.”

“How’d it go?” Juno asked.

“I wasn’t even a pre-selected candidate, but my boss calls me like ‘can you come as backup’ and I went ‘cause I like getting money. Sarah and Minerva explain the situation to me, and then Leo comes out and he’s sure he won’t get picked. Same happens with Minnie, then Sarah, and I’m sitting there like ‘what the fuck is going on here.’ I go in, everything’s totally fine, in fact it went almost better than usual. I got the job, and now I’m gonna be out for at least ten weeks,” Duck explained.

“Sounds like a fun job,” Juno mused, “So who is it?”

“Can’t tell you, I said that,” Duck said, “But I’ll say they’re newer to the Hollywood scene.”

“Cute?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Duck replied.

“So he is,” Juno said.

“I didn’t— Juno, come on, I didn’t say that,” Duck said.

“Legally, you didn’t. In your heart you know it to be true,” Juno teased.

“You’re a menace,” Duck laughed.

“I’m an excellent friend,” Juno countered.

“So how was your day?” Duck changed the subject.

“Oh, you know. As good as teaching life science to teenagers can be,” Juno said.

“That bad, huh?” Duck raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not the worst, but no one was paying attention. Guess some video went viral last night of some guy getting beat up or something, and there were memes of it, you know how it goes,” Juno said.

“Huh, that sucks,” Duck said. He had a feeling he knew which video that was.

“Yeah. But other than that, it was alright,” Juno said.

“Have you talked to Sarah today?” Duck asked.

“I… why would I talk to Sarah?” Juno replied.

“I dunno, I thought you two were friends. Are you not friends?” Duck said.

“No, we’re… we’re friends,” Juno said.

“Oh, I see,” Duck said, “And I’m the obvious one.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Juno said.

“You should come up here and visit soon,” Duck said.

“When you won’t be in town?” Juno pointed out.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what my schedule is or how your schedule works,” Duck said.

“I’ll think about it,” Juno said.

Duck saw a notification for an email pop up on his laptop screen. “Oh, looks like I got the schedule just now.”

“Alright Newton, guess I’ll leave you to your big city business dealings,” Juno said.

“Bye Juno,” Duck smiled.

“See ya later,” Juno said.

The call ended, and Duck set his phone down. He opened the email and clicked on the PDF. The file name was horrendously long, meaning these people clearly changed their schedule often. Duck hoped that wouldn’t cause problems for him.

As Duck opened the schedule, he realized just how long this press circuit would go. Three months packed with appearances and interviews and photoshoots, not to mention the premiere near the end. Duck knew that an indie film like the one Indrid was in required a lot of marketing, but god damn.

In fact, it looked like the first event Duck would need to be at was tomorrow afternoon. It was a promotional photoshoot, one of many listed on the agenda. Duck copied the information into his Google calendar. This was going to be a long three months.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid goes to a photoshoot and has no idea what a bodyguard does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we r truly in it now.... it's only gonna get gayer from here! im simultaneously excited for where this is going and very sorry for the amount of actual film stuff im putting here. yknow what tho its my self-indulgent au im gonna drag yall with me on this opinionated train.

Indrid showed up to the photoshoot with low expectations.

It wasn't that he resented having a bodyguard (though he did) or even that he disliked photoshoots (also that). He just didn't know how a bodyguard was going to be very helpful at a photography studio.

Then, as Indrid stepped out of the car and saw said bodyguard, he remembered why he had gone through with hiring him in the first place.

“Hello,” Indrid said, walking up to Duck.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Duck replied.

“I’m doing alright, you?” Indrid said.

“I’m good,” Duck said.

Ned walked up to them, oblivious to the awkward energy there.

“Hair and makeup says you have a good twenty minutes before you’re needed, so we can— oh, hold on.” The phone in Ned’s hand was buzzing, and he answered it. He whispered, “It’s my husband, I have to take this. You all go inside and talk amongst yourselves. Hi Barclay, it’s— yeah, I’m at work right— yeah, I know.”

Ned shooed them away. Indrid turned back to Duck. “So, I have never had a bodyguard before, is there some sort of procedure I should know?”

“Well, usually it’s up to you, whether you want me to just hang out by the door or follow you around the building,” Duck said, “How much protecting do you think you’ll need?”

“Is it boring to stand by the door?” Indrid asked.

“I mean, it’s my job,” Duck said.

“Come with me then, at the very least you can steal the vegan fruit snacks or whatever they put out for us,” Indrid said.

“Alright.”

Indrid led the way through the door of the studio. He walked over to the receptionist, who told him where to go. Duck matched pace with him easily, which is good because Indrid tended to walk fast. They ended up in the studio, where Indrid’s costar Aubrey Little was being shouted at by the camera director.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” said a voice from behind them.

“Hey Mack,” Indrid greeted.

“Are you sure you’re good to be here? I saw the video, it looked pretty bad,” Mack asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. Look I hired a bodyguard even, so it won’t happen again. Duck, this is Mack, the director and executive producer and general mastermind behind the film I was in,” Indrid said.

“Hey!” Mack greeted.

“Hello,” Duck nodded.

“So I don’t actually know how bodyguards work? But I feel bad making him stand to the side so is it okay if he sticks with me for the most part?” Indrid asked.

“Yeah, sure, just make sure you’re ready when we call you,” Mack said, giving Indrid a meaningful look.

Indrid tilted his head back as if to say ‘I have absolutely no idea what you could possibly be implying.’ Then he said, “About ten minutes, right?”

“Yep,” Mack nodded. She was already absorbed in her clipboard stacked with headshots with pen marks on them.

“Great.” Indrid started walking again, this time to the singular dressing room in the back of the studio.

Duck stopped in the doorway. “Do you want me in here?”

“I don’t see why not, unless you’d rather stand outside menacingly. Is that a thing you do?” Indrid replied. He wasn’t particularly self-conscious, so he didn’t see why Duck couldn’t be in there, unless he didn’t want to be.

“It— I can,” Duck said.

“Work with me here, Duck, I need concrete answers. I have no idea what your job entails,” Indrid said.

“It’s a case by case thing, is the problem, and the contract I have with you doesn’t specify much,” Duck said.

“Alright, then just stay in the room with me, or don’t, I don’t know,” Indrid said.

“I’ll stay in here then. Should I close the door?” Duck asked.

“Yeah.” Indrid checked out his face in the mirror, rubbing the bruise on his jaw. “So… what’s it like being a bodyguard? Is that something I can ask?”

“I mean, it’s alright, it pays the bills, I get to travel,” Duck said.

“Oh yeah? Is there an office component to it or is it just assignments with some paperwork in between?” Indrid asked, going over to the wheeled rack of clothes.

“Sometimes I have to be in the office, but I don’t really work in there,” Duck said.

“You ever bodyguard for someone interesting?” Indrid asked, sliding hangers out of the way to find his outfit.

“I think legally, I can’t tell you, but our agency is pretty small so we don’t get many big names coming through,” Duck said.

“I can understand that,” Indrid said, “Have you been doing this for a while?”

“I mean, about a decade, I think. One of my coworkers has been doing it for like, thirty years,” Duck said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, and he’s still good. Got a faster reaction time than anyone I’ve ever met, even though he’s older than dirt,” Duck said.

“Is working at an agency… does each agency have different regulations or are there standards you have to meet before you can apply to any of them?” Indrid asked.

“Uh, well, most places ask for similar things, I think. We do a lot of training on site once we’re hired too,” Duck said.

“Like, martial arts training or just general job training?” Indrid asked. He didn’t mean to ask so many questions, but he was genuinely curious about it. It was better than sitting in silence.

“Well, they train us, like ‘don’t fawn over the celebrities you’re guarding’ and all that,” Duck said. Indrid looked over at him curiously. “But they always use the blandest examples. I think the lady running my first thing used Chris Evans as an example. Like I guess he’s a big name star ‘cause of the Marvel stuff, but he’s kinda… bland.”

“Really,” Indrid replied, finally taking his designated outfit off the rack.

“Yeah, I mean, I got nothing against the guy, but out of any celebrity that I would lose my shit over, Chris Evans isn’t even on that list. ‘Sides, that guy can probably fight off someone on his own,” Duck said.

“Who would be at the top of that list?” Indrid asked, pulling his shirt off.

Duck didn’t answer immediately, and Indrid figured he was thinking. He pulled on the shirt he was supposed to wear while he waited.

“Probably like, Idris Elba,” Duck said finally, “Or maybe Keanu Reeves, not that he really needs a bodyguard. Or— oh, what’s her name, she played— Gal Gadot, who I mean probably also doesn’t need a bodyguard. I’d probably lose my mind over a lot of people, to be honest, just not someone boring.”

“All good choices,” Indrid nodded. He turned to look at Duck. “Am I boring?”

“What? No! Sorry, that— no, you’re not boring, definitely not, I just— like, y’know, typecast white guys. You’re— honestly, you’re the most chill person who’s hired me,” Duck backtracked.

Indrid grinned. “That’s good to hear. I’d hate to waste your time with boring events.”

“Nah, this is alright. And you’re not an asshole, at least to me, which is always a plus,” Duck said.

"Well, you might have to wait on that judgement, my manager says I'm 'more than a handful,'" Indrid said. He moved behind the clothes rack to change into the black slacks he was supposed to wear. 

"High maintenance isn't the same as mean," Duck reasoned, "You haven't cursed me out even once yet."

"How often do people do that?" Indrid asked, slightly alarmed.

"Not always, but the stress gets to you, I guess," Duck shrugged.

“I… I can’t promise I won’t snap on you, but if I do, feel free to remind me that I have no right to do so,” Indrid said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Duck said.

It was quiet for a moment as Indrid emerged from the clothes rack, fully dressed and ready for the hair and makeup team to make him unrecognizable. “Shall we?”

Duck nodded and opened the dressing room door. Indrid followed him out and started heading towards the small army of technicians waiting for him. He heard Duck trailing behind.

“Great, you’re here,” Ned said as Indrid walked up. “Once you’re done meet me at the front and we’ll go get food and talk about the schedule for the next week.”

“You don’t want to stick around and tell me to ‘be photogenic?’ Who knows, maybe they’ll take your picture too,” Indrid replied jokingly.

“No, unfortunately, I don’t have time to stand around looking good, I have boring stuff to do,” Ned said.

“How’s Barclay?” Indrid asked.

“He’s fine, he’s complaining that I’ll be gone for so long, but he’ll survive. He’s got his own work to do too,” Ned said, “He expressed condolences for you getting hit in the face.”

“He was laughing, wasn’t he?” Indrid said.

“Maybe,” Ned said, “Okay, go, get your makeover, meet me when you’re done.”

“See you later,” Indrid said.

Ned started towards the door, hunched over his phone. Indrid figured he must still be dealing with backlash from the attack. As if on cue, the bruise on his jaw throbbed, and Indrid touched it absentmindedly.

“Does it still hurt?” Duck asked.

“Hm?” Indrid turned to him.

“Where you were hit,” Duck clarified.

“Oh. A little, but I’m more worried about it being noticeable,” Indrid said, dropping his hand.

“That’s what the makeup’s for, right?” Duck said.

“Yeah,” Indrid sighed. He walked the rest of the way to the collection of folding tables with ring lights and and expensive palettes covering every inch of them.

“Do you want me over here?” Duck asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Indrid shrugged, as strangers maneuvered him into a chair. “Make sure no one stabs me in the eyes with the eyeliner.”

As he said that, unfamiliar hands slid his glasses off his face. The glare from the ring lights and overhead fluorescents flooded his vision. With all the times he had gone through this, one would think he’s used to it. Unfortunately it still took him a few seconds to adjust, long enough that he knew Duck noticed. Duck didn’t say anything, and Indrid was happy not to address it. He knew he was already weird enough as it is.

Apart from the general studio din, it was mostly quiet as the technicians styled Indrid’s hair and painted his face. Indrid was never sure how long it took for them to do it, considering his eyes were mostly shut. Before he knew it they gave him a different pair of glasses than he started with and ushered him towards the waiting production assistants. They showed him his marks on the eerily-lit stand in front of a greenscreen.

From there, it was a blur of camera flashes and posing. The photography director was yelling instructions, then Mack was, and then Indrid was done. He walked off the greenscreen set, towards the folding table where Aubrey and Duck were.

“Hey,” Aubrey greeted, “How’d it go? Did you feel like they were rushing it?”

“I completely zoned out,” Indrid admitted.

“Smart,” Aubrey nodded.

“Do you know if they need us for anything else?” Indrid asked.

“We’re supposed to give a short bio of our characters, but they never gave me a script so I’m waiting for someone to tell me what to do,” Aubrey said.

“Mind if I wait with you?” Indrid asked.

“Go ahead,” Aubrey shrugged.

“I grabbed your glasses,” Duck said, holding out the spectacles in question.

“Oh, thank you,” Indrid smiled. He swapped out the mildly grey-tinted glasses for his regular grey ones. Maybe having a bodyguard wasn’t so bad. Indrid looked at Aubrey suddenly. “You’ve met Duck, right? I’m assuming because you were standing near each other.”

“Yeah, we were talking,” Aubrey said, “Well, I was talking and he was staring at you.”

“I was keeping an eye on him ‘cause that’s my job, as his bodyguard,” Duck corrected.

“It’s alright, I know I’m nice to look at,” Indrid teased. He hoped he wasn’t being too friendly to this man he met yesterday.

“I mean, you’re the only person that’s ever played the Mothman as sexy,” Aubrey conceded.

“Am I? Or are you just a coward?” Indrid replied.

“So you admit you were making him slutty on purpose,” Aubrey said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Indrid grinned, “Don’t you know anything about moths? They’re incredibly horny creatures.”

“Oh, I see, flirting with the extras was method acting, now I get it,” Aubrey said.

“I would never do that,” Indrid insisted, “I was just being nice. It’s hard being an extra.”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m too sexy and talented to ever be less than a secondary character,” Aubrey said mock-snootily, flipping her undercut dramatically.

“Aubrey, come get your character bio!” Mack shouted from across the warehouse space. “Indrid too!”

Indrid turned to Duck. “I’ll be right back. Or, I mean, you could go hang out with Ned.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Duck said.

“Smart choice.” Indrid started after Aubrey, who had almost reached Mack by then.

Mack handed Indrid a paper with his lines on it. “They’re just using the audio, so you don’t have to be too wild with it.” 

“What if I want to be wild with it?” Aubrey asked.

“As long as you’re on-theme,” Mack said, “Now have either of you seen Jake? He’s supposed to be out here by now.”

“Did you check in the dressing room?” Indrid suggested.

“He locked himself in the dressing room,” Mack realized, “Okay, I’ll get Dani to bring him out. Room 5A is where they’re doing the recording so try and be down there ASAP. 20 after at the latest.”

“Then we’re good to go?” Aubrey asked.

“Yeah, unless you wanna stick around to break down after everything’s done,” Mack said.

“I’m good, actually,” Aubrey replied.

“I’ll check in before I go,” Indrid said.

He went back to Duck, who was standing awkwardly by the table.

“What time is it?” Indrid asked.

“3:10,” Duck answered.

“Great, I have maybe five minutes to memorize this,” Indrid said. He scanned the script; it was only six sentences, but he had to say them right. The audio people hated having to start over. “Let’s go look for the room, it’s 5A.”

“I think I saw that in that hallway we passed right before this room,” Duck said. Indrid had to admire how observant he was. Probably a necessity for a bodyguard, but still.

“Let’s look,” Indrid said.

They went back through the door they came in. Duck peered down the hallway on the right, but he shook his head. They walked a little further, and that time they saw it. Indrid leaned against the wall and looked at the script again.

“Alright, wait out here, this shouldn’t take long,” Indrid said.

_ “The Mothman goes by several names and appearances throughout the film, but with each new appearance his true nature becomes more obvious. It was truly thrilling to be the one who builds up the tension and the fear with each scene. As a character, even when he’s just an unassuming man in rural West Virginia, he’s very ominous. He carries an energy of foreboding with him that really sets the tone for the whole movie. And when he reveals his true form, it’s an almost cathartic moment. Check it out in  _ “ Seen and Unseen ” _ in theaters October 19.” _

~☀~

“I should get a bodyguard too, huh?” Aubrey said, sipping her iced latte. She had joined Indrid’s group in going to a cafe near the studio.

“I mean…” Indrid shrugged, “You can take a punch much better than I can.”

“Have you seen the memes people made of that video?” Aubrey asked.

“I have,” Ned grumbled.

“I want to see them,” Indrid said.

“Here, let me see if I can…” Aubrey opened her phone and started searching.

“My friend actually mentioned them, not knowing who I was about to work for,” Duck admitted.

“Is this the peak of my career? I’ve become a meme?” Indrid asked.

“I mean, your name’s Indrid Cold and you played the Mothman, so I feel like as far as jokes go it could be worse,” Aubrey said, still scrolling. “Oh, here’s one!”

She held up her phone to show the video to everyone else at the table. It was the dreaded Snapchat video, and as it showed Indrid getting hit it looped that frame to the Mii theme song. Indrid laughed, and he saw Duck trying not to smile.

“This is great, actually. Ned, why didn’t you let me get punched in the face earlier? I could have had such a high memetic value by now,” Indrid said.

“You know, I don’t know,” Ned said.

“All press is good press, isn’t that what you always say?” Indrid said.

“It is, even if that press is a video of you getting hit set to ‘Tainted Love,’” Ned chuckled.

“I was literally about to show you that one,” Aubrey said. Sure enough, when she showed her phone, it was the video Ned described, with the hit perfectly matched to the beats.

“This is excellent. Are these on Twitter? I want to retweet them,” Indrid said.

“I’ll send you the good ones,” Aubrey nodded. She glanced at her phone again. “Shit, I gotta run. I’ll see you guys at the party on Friday?”

“You’ll see me, I think, but Ned is banned from parties,” Indrid said.

“What? I am not,” Ned interrupted.

“Were you going to go?” Indrid asked.

“No,” Ned admitted.

“Cool, so you’re there, Ned isn’t, and is Duck coming?” Aubrey said.

“Do you want to go?” Indrid asked, “You don’t have to, I’m not paying you to go.”

“Do you want me to go?” Duck asked.

“Would it be weird to ask you to come as a designated driver?” Indrid asked.

“I can do that,” Duck said.

“Great, so Indrid and Duck, I’ll see you then. Ned, you can die I guess,” Aubrey said.

“Bye Aubrey,” Indrid waved.

“I’m uninviting you from my funeral,” Ned said. Once Aubrey left, he turned back to Indrid. “So. Your schedule for the next week.”

“Party on Friday night,” Indrid nodded.

“Two interviews tomorrow, then the flight to LA on thursday, then a magazine shoot on Friday, then the party,” Ned clarified.

“Which magazine again?” Indrid asked.

“I don’t fuckin’ remember, Indrid,” Ned said with the most dramatically resigned voice, “All the time I’m managing your schedule and driving you around and breaking my thumbs answering emails that you refuse to even read, and you’re going to parties and collecting groupies and wrecking your image!”

“It’s true, I have so many groupies, and I do a very high quantity and variety of drugs,” Indrid nodded solemnly. He glanced at Duck from behind his sunglasses; Duck looked stuck between concern and laughter.

“Anyways, yes, that’s your schedule, I’ll print it out and tape it to your forehead,” Ned said.

“I have only been late once, by maybe ten minutes,” Indrid said.

“Time is money, kid,” Ned said.

“Whatever,” Indrid shook his head.


End file.
